Failing Or Leaving
by Sailor Grape
Summary: I'll run and hide, but that never works.  I can't decide what is worse, failing or leaving.  Failing or leaving.  Leaving...'  Dick screws up and attempts to fix things.  MacDick


Title: Failing Or Leaving

Author: GrapeSmshr

Rated: PG-13

Posted on: July 25, 2007

Disclaimer: As much as I wish it were so, these charas don't belong to me.

A/N: I find it so sad that there are not nearly enough people writing VM fics as there should be… That's why I decided to jump in there and write one! This fic was somewhat inspired by a Radish song entitled, coincidently, Failing and Leaving. I was thinking about a possible sequel, but I'm not sure… Hmm… A chocolate chip cookie goes out to anyone who spots the Empire Records reference... Anyway, read on and enjoy!

ooOOooOOoo

Dick Casablancas was drunk.

Ok, no, he wasn't, but he really wished he was. If he learned anything in high school and college, it was that alcohol tended to dull any unwanted thoughts or feelings into magical blurs that one may or may not remember in the morning. And while the scars his life had provided him were not those of the forgotten kind, he was content with even two minutes of dulling the pain.

But he was past all that.

Sort of.

What he really did was trade one pain in for another. Apparently he just couldn't live without it. He should have known that there was no escape. _He_ didn't leave people; people left _him_.

Well, fuck his deadbeat criminal of a father. Fuck his absentee Barbie of a mother. Fuck his psychotic, homicidal, dead little brother. Most of all, fuck his (ex-) girlfriend. Out of everyone that had left him, she was the one that he didn't want to get out of his head.

He knew that was pretty damned twisted. He knew it. But after all these years, he liked to think that common sense was more common to him. And right now, common sense was telling him to get in his BMW and drive.

It was strange, really. They never should have gotten together by the cosmic laws of the universe. Hell, they never should have gotten together by the cosmic laws of _Neptune._ But somehow, that hadn't stopped them from forming some weird kind of friendship cum friends with benefits cum whirlwind romance cum serious relationship.

Besides this, Dick had only had one relationship, counting Madison (who, consequently, shouldn't count due to her status as a turbo-slut; then again, so was he at the time). So there were really no grounds to compare. Virtually, he was in uncharted territory, like a pirate in search of booty (despite his somber mood, Duck snickered at the double entendre).

And despite all of his major fumblings (which were quite plentiful), she patiently put up with his assholeness. He eventually figured out how to be a decent boyfriend. A great boyfriend, even.

Until he freaked out and jacked things up.

_Royally_.

The completely insane part was that he felt like his trust issues were being pushed (when in fact they were, but not in the wrong direction), so he immediately went into defensive mode.

This, for Dick, meant being a dick.

They had been dating for three years, which Dick thought must have been some kind of world record. They were happy. They studied together. They played video games. They had amazing sex.

Frequently.

So why did she suggest that she wanted to move in together? Was their current relationship not good enough for her? Was she trying to put a leash on him? _No woman tames Dick_, he had told her with an arrogant smirk.

She had promptly left him after that.

And rightfully so, might he add. Hell, he felt like leaving _himself_ after that. Luckily, his friends steered him back in the right direction. Logan and Wallace threatened to kick his ass, and Ronnie pretty much threatened his entire existence as a living, breathing human being.

Add that to the layers of guilt and the fact that he was insane with missing her, and he was _so_ on his way over to her apartment to grovel.

Sadly, it had taken him almost a week to do so.

Before Dick knew it, he was standing outside her door, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched sheepishly. He felt the part; he wanted to look it, too. But then he remembered that he hadn't knocked yet. As he pulled his hand out of his pocket, his watch got stuck. Giving a swift tug, he wrenched his hand free and in the process smacked it against the brick wall next to him.

His loud cursing and moaning must have alerted his presence because a moment later the door had swung open, and she stood staring at him, torn between shock and anger and a myriad of other emotions.

Holding his injured, bleeding hand to his chest, Dick asked calmly, "Hi, Mac, can I come in?"

With a deep sigh, she stepped aside and allowed him passage. Indicating he follow her, she led him into the bathroom and took out a first-aid kit.

The situation was eerily similar to one that had taken place between the two over three years ago. Dick had finally gotten drunk enough to go visit Cassidy's grave. Ironically, it was also on a day when Mac had decided to visit as well. When she saw that his friend Jack tagged along, she tried to pry the bottle out of his surprisingly strong grip.

Of course he didn't yield, and he apparently had been raving like a lunatic enough for Mac to be concerned since she resorted to drastic measures. He can't say that he remembered it (and damn, that was a shame), but she had kissed him, and he was so startled that he dropped the bottle on a neighboring tombstone. The glass shattered all over the place, so he and Mac picked up the pieces. He was drunk, but he was coherent enough to know that leaving broken glass behind at a cemetery was disrespectful ("Sorry, Mr. Justin Stewart," he had muttered to the man's tombstone which had been christened with alcohol).

Suffice it to say, having a drunk person try out his coordination by picking up broken glass was a bad idea; he had managed to slice his hand up something fierce (at least, that's what he told anyone who had asked; Mac told everyone that it was a superficial wound and that he cried like a baby). Luckily Mac kept a first-aid kit in her car. She patiently patched him right up. Not allowing him to drive in his state and not wanting to leave him on his own, she deposited him at Logan's.

The next time he saw her was a week later in the quad, where he invited himself to join her for lunch. She surprisingly didn't object.

Their lunches became more frequent. They eventually turned into dinners. Then to video game and movie marathons. It always seemed that where one was, the other was as well.

They spent so much time together that they talked about everything. _Everything_. It was definitely easier working through his issues with someone who had gone through such a hell than with some overpaid head-shrinker who got a doctorate from a Cracker Jack box.

After a while they finally determined that they were ready to say goodbye. They weren't at the cemetery very long; everything had pretty much already been said. She had clung to him for support, and he to her. They had been getting closer; they were comfortable sharing their vulnerability to the other.

In a moment of overpowering sentiment, she had kissed him. This time there was no Jack, no blood, only them. It was nice to share some other emotion besides sorrow. They retreated back to his place, where they didn't leave the bedroom the rest of the day.

Thus began the strangest relationship that he had ever had with any one person. They could spend all day together and never tire of the company. She would laugh at his crude jokes, and he would indulge her "smart chick" movies. It shouldn't have worked out, but it did.

Until he had to go and fuck everything up. One glimpse at the exasperation on her face and he knew that he _had_ to fix this.

After Mac tended to his injury, she finally spoke her first words to him. "What are you doing here, Dick?"

They were now sitting in her tiny living room on opposite ends of the sofa that he had helped her pick out. He realized with a start that he had not only missed Mac's presence in his life, but he had also missed being here in her home with her. It was different from his own place, which was large and spacious and pretty much felt sterile when she wasn't around. But her place was cozy. It felt like home to him.

_She _felt like home to him.

"Mac, I…" Dick searched for the words. He didn't want to screw this up. She was already avoiding his gaze, carefully staring at the hands wrenched together in her lap. He tried again. "Mac, I just wanted to tell you…"

Damn, this was harder than he thought it would be. So many things were swimming through his brain that he didn't know which jumbled thought he should start with. So he thought he'd go with the simplest and most obvious. "I miss you."

At this Mac's head whipped up, and she gave a short bark of laughter. "You miss me?" she repeated mockingly. "You were the one that broke things off!"

A wave of anguish rolled over Dick as he saw reflected in her eyes the way his actions had stung her, how stupid and childish and dickheaded he had been. She had been hurt because of his insecurities. Funny; he was supposed to be the Casablancas brother that _didn't_ fuck with her head. "Look. I'm… sorry."

"Well, apology accepted then! All is well," she snorted in derision, anger cascading. Tugging on a strand of blue-black hair, she said, "I'm sorry, too, for pushing. I thought you were capable of handling an adult relationship. Apparently I was wrong."

He was losing his moment, and fast. If he didn't fix this right now, he highly doubted there would be another opportunity. Summoning up his courage, Dick proceeded to unjumble his thoughts and explain himself. "I have no good excuse for what I did. I'm not even going to attempt to justify my actions. The thing is, when you suggested we move in together, I panicked. In case you didn't realize, I have this thing with pushing people away.

"Before my dad turned himself in, I wanted nothing to do with him. I haven't even visited him in prison. My mother, well, I only talk to her when she calls to remind me that she's funding my college experience and that I'd better not screw it up. And Cassidy—" he choked briefly on the name, even after four years. "He and I were close, but not. Obviously."

"Dick, this is all stuff I already know," Mac said in exasperation. "What does it have to do with us?"

"Everything! It has everything to do with us!" he insisted so fiercely that he startled her. Calming down a bit, he explained, "My life has been nothing but one fucked up roller coaster ride after another. I could write a goddamned soap opera about my life! But you…" He lowered his gaze, continuing more quietly. "You showed up. And yeah, ok, so we weren't exactly friendly at first. But it got better. And every day that it did, it was like another piece of my soul was waking up. God, I'm starting to sound as fucking sentimental as Logan," he snorted in embarrassment.

Mac couldn't help but chuckle despite herself.

The sound gave some hope to Dick, so he plowed on. "You became my friend, and then my lover, and then my girlfriend. My rock. My sanity. You became my world." His voice was growing more and more quiet. "And when you wanted to move things further, all I could think about was how everyone left me in the end. And I know you're not like that, like my screwed up family, but I couldn't help but get scared. I didn't want you to end up fucked up like they did."

By this time Dick's head was bowed, and Mac had had to lean closer to hear his last words. When he finished, she scooted closer to him and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Is that what you think? That you're going to taint me?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Well, that's the stupidest thing I have ever heard!" She busted up laughing.

He stared at her in disbelief. How could she be laughing at him? He just poured his soul out to her! Why the hell was his mental torment so fucking hilarious?

After a moment her laughter dissolved into giggles until finally she was once again gazing at him seriously. "Dick, I've known you a lot longer than I've liked you." When he made to protest she raised her hand to silence him. "It's true. You can't argue with me here. My point is, you've changed. Yes, you used to be a colossal jerk, but you're not any more. If you were, I never would have stuck around this long. I love you, you know," she reminded him with a gentle knock to the head.

Dick felt like, well, a dick. How could he have doubted her, the one person in his life who knew all his faults and loved him unconditionally? Well, he was definitely going to make it up to her. "Mac, I'm sorry—"

Once again she raised a hand to stop him. "It's ok. We're ok now." She twined their hands together.

Gently pulling back, Dick replied, "There's something I have to say." She made no move to interrupt. "Mac, I love you. This past week was a reminder of just how much my life sucked with you not there. So I thought about it. For hours. Forever. And… I want us to move in together. Actually…" He took both hands in hers. "I want you to marry me."

Her mouth dropped open in shock. After a long moment she asked, "Dick Casablancas, did you just turn an apology into a proposal?"

"Um, yeah, I guess I did." He chuckled sheepishly.

"Well, I accept."

He stared at her long and hard. "The apology or the proposal?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Both."

When she grinned at him, he stood up and swept her into his arms, swinging her around and around. "Dude, we're getting married!" he cried out. Paying no attention to the furniture around him, Dick's foot caught behind a table leg and he tripped, knocking them over onto the sofa.

"Trying to start the honeymoon early?" Mac asked once she caught her breath.

"That's a good idea," Dick leered up at her, laughing when she smacked his chest. "Did I mention that I love you?"

"Good, cause I love you too." Mac leaned down and kissed him soundly. "Now, I was about to take a shower before you showed up." She climbed off of him.

"Oh, so you _do_ want to start the honeymoon early?"

Mac took one glance at the predatory gleam in Dick's eyes before running out of the room, squealing as he jumped up and chased after her.

Yes, their life together would never be boring.

ooOOooOOoo

ooOOooOOoo

_I'll run and hide_

_But that never works_

_And I can't decide_

_What is worse_

_Failing or leaving_

_Failing or leaving_

_Leaving…_

--Ben Kweller, Radish


End file.
